


Between Grace and Violence

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Bestiality, Come Inflation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Impregnation, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, laws of biology? What laws of biology, references to Stiles/Malia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia whines in almost pain as another flare of heat rips through her. She wants. . . She <i>needs</i>. . .</p><p>She stumbles through the preserve hoping she can find what it is she needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: In the Dirt and the Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Blame [Kinkyfics](http://kinkyfics.tumblr.com/) everyone, they indulged my Malia ideas and I finally gave in.

Malia whines in almost pain as another flare of heat rips through her. She wants... She _needs_...

She stumbles through the preserve hoping she can find what it is she needs.

When this hellish thing started in her she’d tried using Stiles to relieve it. It had only made things worse. He’d always wear a condom, when all she wanted was to desperately feel his seed spraying her insides. She’d hated the fact that he could just leave her at any time, no knot to keep them together, keeping all that seed in her; making her pregnant.

A moan escapes her at that thought. She wants to be heavy with puppies again, wants the fulfillment that comes from suckling them—though how she’ll take care of more than two with only two nipples she’s not sure—from teaching them, from sending them on their way and doing it again next spring.

Her clothes rasp against her skin and she can’t stand it anymore. Stopping she tears them off her. The air bites at her poorly covered body and she finds herself falling to her knees as it blows to her the scents of coyotes mating.

More heat fills her and she whines again, hands drifting low to play with herself. She rubs her clit furiously, being harsher with herself than Stiles has ever been. The orgasm that rips through her just emphasizes how empty she is, how unfilled her womb is. She howls.

The sound of a twig cracking draws her attention and she spins around.

A coyote.

With a thick, heavy cock hanging between furred hind legs.

 _Yes_ , the heat roars to new heights and she turns back around lowering herself to her elbows and knees, she spreads her legs as far as she can and gives another whine, a good approximation of a bitch wanting to mate.

She screws her eyes shut as she clutches the dirt beneath her hands in desperation. _Please, please, please_. Now that she knows what she needs she doesn’t want it to be taken away from her.

The sounds of the male approaching are like gunshots to her hyper aware state; and she can feel fluid leaking from her opening, making herself ready for him. She hopes it’s enough to entice him.

Something cool touches her lower lips and sniffs. Yet another whine, this one even higher than the others, rips through her.

Barely a moment later a furred belly hits her back, and briefly claws bite into her arms. Reaching back she grabs his cock, wondrously, painfully, hot in her hand and guides him in.

The second just the tip is in she clenches again in orgasm, and the male snarls; forcing himself all the way into her now tight channel.

She howls again, but this time out of pleasure.

Over and over he thrusts, bumping up against something inside her that’s preventing him from being in her all the way. He whines and thrusts harder. She lowers herself even further trying to make it easier for him.

No matter how hard he tries whatever he’s bumping up against won’t budge. What she’s giving him is apparently enough for the male because she can feel his knot beginning to form against her entrance.

Now she’s thrusting back against him wantonly, wanting to feel that massive thing splitting her wide as he impregnates her.

At the mere thought of it another orgasm tears through her and she feels him slip in that final bit as the barrier in her relaxes.

She screams as his knot expands almost too much and his seed sprays itself right into her womb, all of her insides clenching tightly around him, as intent to keep him inside as his knot.

His nose nuzzles her cheek and with pleasure-glazed eyes she looks up from the ground to see more males circling.

Even more heat tears through her, _yes_.

When the first male finally pulls out she does her bitch whine again, her insides are still sloppy with seed but if the male is desperate enough they might still mount and breed her.

And indeed one does, this one even heavier than the last, heavy enough to force her over-sensitized nipples into the dirt, the sensation making her undulate; giving him just the right angle to slip in.

His cock isn’t wide enough to reach that strange barrier inside her, but it’s thicker. As their hips work she bears her throat to him, hoping he bites her, holding her in place while he takes his right.

When his knot inflates in her she wonders why she’d never through to try this before. This is exactly what she’s always wanted.

Cum splashing inside her once again she looks down between her cleavage to see the spot where she thinks her womb is bulging out a little, she can even feel the pressure of it as the male’s knot prevents her from ejecting all of the excess cum.

Again she orgasms. Mind overloaded with pleasure she can barely even focus on the sounds coming out of her mouth, let alone her surroundings.

Claws prickle in her hair... _fingers_?! grasping tightly. “Hello,” a male voice, deep and full of strength reaches her ears. “What do we have here?”

There’s still too much pleasure in her system to even feel shame at being caught like this. She arches into the feel of his claws and whimpers.

She’s so focused on her human intruder now she can barely feel the cock still plugging her up. She hears him inhale, then exhale slowly. “Let me guess,” she thinks that’s amusement in his voice. “It’s your first heat isn’t it darling bitch?” She tries to tilt her head to look at him but the claws in her hair dig a little deeper, keeping her head where it is. He leans down and breaths into her ear. “Poor thing, no one to help you and give you what you truly _need_.” At that last word she feels him start to move behind her, shedding his own clothes.

There’s snarling now behind her and she screams as the cock filling her gets forced out. A sound she can’t identify escapes her and she finds one of her hand flying back trying to recapture that full feeling.

The man’s other hand snatches it before she even gets close. “Now, now. You can’t touch what’s not yours without permission first.”

In response she snarls; the claws in her hair dig in painfully tight and she finds herself going limp, submitting.

“Good girl,” he croons as he let goes of her hand. His own moves to her neck and she feels him press up against it, forcing her to rise or suffocate.

All she can manage is a questioning whine as she gets back up on her knees, speech is beyond her even if she wanted to talk.

The man understands what she’s asking though and the hand on her neck lets go, begins soothing strokes down her front. “I know what you want my precious bitch,” Claws tweak her nipples and she arches back into him, she wants him to fuck her.

“Try as you might those poor dogs won’t give you want you really want.” The claws leave her breasts and slide down to her belly, she looks down to see long, elegant fingers begin to press up against her bulging womb. “You’re going to be a good girl and let go of all of this aren’t you? It can’t really give you to pups you want.”

At those words she becomes truly limp in his hands, the only reason she remains upright is from those same hands holding her.

“Force it out precious bitch, or I won’t give you what you want.”

He’s barely done anything to her and yet she’s orgasming, feeling bizarrely full as all of the coyote seed she’d taken in comes out of her in a rush.

“Yes,” he croons again. The hand on her belly drifts lower and her entrance tenses at the thought of those claws inside her.

When his fingers dip in they’re claw free and she opens to him willingly. “Let’s make sure it really did all come out,” he says, almost like he’s talking about the weather, as his fingers thrust deep into her. Not as deep as that first coyote cock, but deep enough that when his fingers curl she screams out another orgasm.

“Good, good.” His fingers start to leave and she squeezes tightly trying to stop them.

Oh so lightly blunt teeth set themselves into her neck. “Now now,” his voice somehow still comes out clearly. “None of that precious. I’m going to give you what you want after all.”

Moaning she relaxes and his fingers slip out, but before she can even feel their loss something much thicker starts pushing itself in.

Once again her eyes squeeze shut and she finds her legs spreading as wide as she can get them. Her hands scrabble for purchase on something and encountering his shoulders her own nails bite deep.

“Moon above, precious.” He manages to press in a little more. “Two cocks and who knows how many orgasms, yet you still cling to me.” She thinks he might be smiling.

He starts to bear down on her, changing the angle and pressing her once more into the ground. He gets even more inside her this way and she feels him hit that same barrier that the first coyote did. It flutters inside her and she groans.

The teeth set into her shoulder transform into something much sharper and she can smell her own blood as they pierce her skin.

Her vision grows gray as the most intense orgasm yet tears through her, and the man snarls into her throat. “Let me in all the way bitch, I know you can.”

Pleasure so intense tears through her and she blacks out.

When her senses start returning he’s spilling his seed into her and his knot’s pressing against spots that not even the coyotes had. “That’s it,” he snarls into her ear; the wound on her neck bleeds sluggishly. “Take all of it you precious bitch, you’re so fertile right now that this is all it’s going to take to breed you.” She clenches around him.

He chuckles. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it to you again when I’ve recovered. Can’t leave anything to chance after all. Maybe I’ll get you so full you really do give birth to a litter.”

She moans and bares her neck. “What you want my dear bitch? You’d look magnificent full with our children.” He thrusts shallowly, the knot keeping them together preventing him from doing much more.

Echoes of pleasure ripple through her. “First you need to understand that you’re mine dear bitch. That _I’m_ your Alpha, your mate, the only man who will give you children.”

Once again he raises her to her knees, it changes the angle of their joining, makes her more aware of the fact that the head of his cock slipped through that barrier of hers. “Say it and I’ll give you another orgasm.”

She whines and tilts her hips.

He growls and she can feel the claws from his other hand bite into her side. “Say it.”

She swallows, her throat is hoarse and she has no idea what she’ll sound like when she finally does manage to speak. “I,” the hand at her side drifts down and a finger circles her clit. “I’m yours,” her voice sounds wrecked. Her eyes begin to flare blue as she speaks again. “You’re my Alpha, my mate,” her voice cracks as he begins to rub her clit. “Now give me my pups,” she snarls.

He chuckles in her ear again. “Oh yes my dear, you’ll be perfect.”

This time when orgasm overcomes her it’s almost painful and she finds herself blacking out again. “Don’t worry my pet.” His hand leaves her clit and strokes her belly softly. “I always look after my own.”

She gives into the darkness and trusts that he’ll take care of her.

-

Deucalion feels nearly wrung dry when he pulls out of the girl. She slumps even further into his grasp. _Poor dear_ , a smile twitches his lips.

It had been complete chance stumbling across her, rutting with coyotes. Though he might have returned to Beacon Hills to get revenge on Scott McCall he found even he couldn’t resist.

Then again she’d smelt of McCall when he’d first approached her, as he dresses he tuts and scolds an imaginary McCall for letting something so precious and rare out of his sight. Well, McCall’s loss was going to be Deucalion’s gain if he had anything to say about it.

The girl’s clothes are torn up a little, but he reasons that she’ll be decent enough not to attract much attention as he takes her back to his temporary home.

As he scoops her up she murmurs and burrows her face into his shoulder. Affection curls through him and he leans down to nuzzle at her hairline.

Pulling away he begins to lope through the preserve. Hopefully she’ll wake soon and they can properly introduce themselves before he tries to fuck her unconscious again.


	2. Part 1 The Cabin, chapter 1: Deep in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't add any new chapters until I'd finished all of part one, but I've made a few changes to this fic (most noticeably the title, which comes from [this lovely poem](http://beanpumpkinpoems.blogspot.com/2015/03/3215-b.html)) that I decided screw it. So new chapter!
> 
> Chapter title comes from [this poem](http://beanpumpkinpoems.blogspot.com/2015/02/21215-a.html)

Malia awakes slowly, warm and comfortable. One by one, her senses return.

There are sounds of someone heavy with muscle, confidence, and a steady heartbeat moving around, probably in the kitchen if the sounds of metal pans and sizzling food is right, there’s also a radio playing some sort of music she doesn’t know and a hissing crackle that means a poor signal. Straining past that she hears birdsong, the wind in the trees, and ever so faintly the brief sound of a car passing fast; it’s gone a moment later though, so they’re not near a road.

Next is touch. the blankets she’s wrapped up in feel heavenly against her naked skin and she stretches, loving the feel of it; the mattress dips with her movement.

Sh opens her eyes, and is greeted by the plain white ceiling. Sitting up she looks around the room. Everything’s made of wood, from the pale walls to the dark furniture. There’s one of those not-dressers with the doors on the top half right across from her, one of the doors is open revealing men’s clothes. Moments later she locates her own clothes, on a chair next to what’s hopefully the bathroom door.

Closing her eyes again she inhales. First to hit her are the smells of food and cooking: eggs and bacon and toasted bread—she wrinkles her nose at that one a little—that off-egg smell of gas, some sort of oil. Breathing in again she puts those smells off to the side, letting those in the bedroom with her come to the fore: licorice, it hits her like a gut punch and the heat within her curls. She’d been hoping it was over, yet the heat settles back down, like a hibernating bear, but still there. Besides licorice there’s woodsmoke and chemical lemon scent from the furniture.

She’s grateful that this place is warm, and her usual desire to wear far too many layers or take the hottest shower she can is wondrously absent; it helps that it’s getting on toward summer and the days are getting warmer. Throwing off the rest of the blankets she climbs out of bed and stands for a moment, letting the slight chill of the floor center her.

Leaving her own clothes where they are she pads over to the not-dresser, from the kitchen she hears a slight pause in movement before it resumes; so her mate knows she’s awake. Reaching into that open part she fingers a dark red shirt, it feels as soft against her skin as the blankets had and she finds she doesn’t want to resist.

Sliding it on she does up two of the buttons near her stomach and leaves the bedroom.

The space she comes out to is large, like numerous rooms have been shoved together into this one room. She likes that, dens shouldn’t have walls. She barely has eyes for that though, instead focusing on the most important part of the space.

Her mate has his back to her, but that still gives a lot. His shoulders are broad, and he looks to be only a little bit taller than herself –another thing she likes, his hair is dark and his skin is paler than hers but darker than Stiles or Lydia’s. He’s wearing sweatpants and a sweater that makes her fingers twitch from wanting to be buried in it.

Seeing no reason to resist the impulse either she strides up to her mate and wraps her arms around his waist. Burying her face in between his shoulders she inhales deeply: licorice and woodsmoke. Moving her face up to his neck she rubs her cheek against it profusely, scent marking.

“Good morning precious.” Now that she’s coherent she can tell his voice has some sort of accent, reminding her a little of those weird shows Kira enjoys with people who wear stupid clothes and seem to subsist on tiny sandwiches and tea.

Something in her thrills, she likes that far more than when Stiles calls her ‘baby’—she’s not an infant—but he’d still use it even though she’s told him she doesn’t like it. Giving a sleepy smile, even if he can’t see it, she sets her teeth lightly into his shoulder. “Morning,” she replies when she lets him go.

He goes back to focusing on the bacon in the pan and her mouth begins to water at the thought of food. A brief chuckle escapes him. “You want something to eat then?”

“Mmmm, yes please.” She doesn’t know his name but he’s already off to a great start in showing he’s a good mate—hopefully—impregnating her, giving her a good den, feeding her. She lets go and sits down on a, thankfully, padded stool. She watches as he begins to fill up a plate for her, the only time she stops him is when he reaches for toast. “I don’t like that.” He corrects without question and seconds later she gets a good look at his face.

He’s older than she expected, though to her that hardly matters. She likes his nose, but she wishes she could see his eyes. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” She doubts he needs them. If Stiles were here he’d probably be apologizing to the man for her bluntness, but ‘dancing’ around questions never made sense.

“Ah,” he gives a rueful smile as he sets the plate of food and silverware in front of her. “Habit.” He reaches up to take them off and...

There’s something captivating about his eyes. The bits that should be white are instead a pink-red, while his iris and pupil are a sort of cloudy blue. “Are you blind?” He’s probably a werewolf, so not being able to see isn’t a big a problem as it would be to a human or a wolf, but it’s not ideal.

He stiffens for a second. “No,” he replies before going back to his own breakfast. His heartbeat doesn’t change, so he must be telling the truth, though she thinks he should be blind with eyes like that.

“I’m Malia,” she says as a sort of peace offering.

His shoulders shift subtly and his scent lightens. “Deucalion.”

Deucalion, Deucalion, she rolls the name around in her mouth without actually speaking it. It’s a good name, she decides, if a bit of a mouthful to shout the next time she orgasms.

-

Malia, it’s a lovely name; one that suits her. The wolf in him rumbles in satisfaction she’s, barely, wearing his clothes, happily eating his food, and is beginning to smell like him. Her own scent, rain and hay, lingering around him.

Others might find it worrying that a young woman such as herself would be so desperate that she’d attempt to mate with beasts, then willingly give herself over to the first were that finds her; but to him it’s wonderful fate. She wasn’t getting what she wanted from McCall and his barely-a-pack so really it’s their fault she’s cleaved to him.

He fills his own plate with the rest of the eggs and bacon, and all of the toast; odd that she doesn’t like it. Walking around the island he takes the stool next to hers and gives a smile when she turns slightly to face him. Her plate’s already empty and he finds himself setting his down with bacon and eggs towards her; he should’ve cooked more.

Her bare legs swing as she finishes off her last slice of bacon, her golden-brown hair sleep tousled and a happy smile on her face. The sides of his shirt tease at showing her breasts and he finds it’s a lovely way to start a morning.

The smile on her face turns a little devious as she starts to lick the grease off her fingers. Mutual arousal fills the room, as do echoes of her heat, but they should talk a little more before they get to mating again.

He takes a bite of toast and pretends not to notice she she filches a slice of his bacon. If she’s not already she will be the mother of his pups and she deserves all the food she wants. “Malia,” he says after he swallows, the name rolls off his tongue wonderfully. “How old are you?” It doesn’t matter to him if she’s sixteen or thirty, but humans have pesky rules about being with people under the ‘legal’ age.

“Eighteen.” She tilts her head a little. “What about you?”

That makes things easier, no police are likely to beat down the door for having a ‘minor’ in the cabin. “Fifty two.”

She bobs her head in what might be a nod, and her legs brush his. “That’s a good age.” She declares. “Old enough to be established, but young enough to defend yourself.” It’s a relief she thinks that way, more in line with what an animal would think than a person. Which is good; if he can ‘take’ her animal side and have it be wholly with him then anyone else will have the impossible task to try and take her away. “Do you have a pack?”

The question doesn’t surprise-surprise him, but most people would build up to a question like that. Malia, it’s becoming clear, isn’t most people. “Not anymore.” Twice he’s failed to make the perfect pack, though perhaps the adage will hold true and this third time will be the charm.

“But you’re an Alpha.” It’s not exactly a question, but there’s definitely a ‘how?’ behind it.

“Yes.” The fact she can tell is interesting; it takes most years to be able to tell accurately. Scooping some eggs onto his fork he holds it out to her, silently asking for her to accept.

Leaning in she opens her mouth and triumph fills him as she takes it all. Mine. Turning the fork away from her he brushes the back of his hand against her cheek. “And you’ve helped to make me more powerful Malia.” From what little he knows of her so far she’s got the good makings of a perfect mate for him, it’s all a matter of bringing out that potential.

She closes her eyes and leans into the touch. “I’m not a wolf though, I’m a coyote.”

Well, well. “Really?”

Giving a shallow nod she turns her head and sets her teeth lightly into his pointer finger. “I mean I’m half-wolf, but when I transformed it was into a coyote.” Letting go of his finger she gives a shy smile. “I spent eight years as one, that’s why I’m so bad at being a person.”

She can fully transform? The rest of his breakfast forgotten he reaches over and drags her onto his lap. “You’re not that bad,” he reassures as he nuzzles her cheek one of his hands settling on her thigh. Though it explains why she’d willingly accept getting bred by a real coyote; even the most animalistic werewolf would have second thoughts of mating with a wolf. “And quite a few people find bluntness charming.” Since she had no problems using her own teeth he set his briefly into her jaw. “You just need someone to help you find what exactly you want to be.”

Her bare sex, as wet and aroused as she smells, rubs against his covered cock. “No more talking.” Her eyes are flaring blue and he has to wonder if that’s the color of all werecoyotes or if they function the same way as blue in wolves does. “Fuck me," she snarls it, weaving her fingers into his hair and yanking.

A chuckle escapes him, and he slides the hand on her thigh up to her waist, rucking up the button-up. “You’re not quite ready yet precious.” He can feel claws prickle against his skin at his words. In response he lets a little of his own wolf rise up and he growls.

The claws vanish and she doesn’t fight when he picks her up off his lap and lies her on the island, mindful of the plates. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy this.” Grabbing her bent knees he spreads her legs apart slowly, far too slowly for her if the sound of her claws scrabbling at the tile is anything to go by.

When her cunt begins to part from his actions he stops spreading and yanks her back towards him her ass resting on the edge. He thrusts his nose into her thatch of hair, briefly bumping her clit, and inhales noisily.

Here she smells purely of rain, and this close it’s not hard to miss the scents of her womb already changing to support what must be the life already growing in her; and he finds himself amazed it’s so easy to tell already, something no human ever could. Perfect. “Yes,” she whines.

As a sort of test he exhales, then inhales again. Her whine is even more animalistic this time, and of course she’d enjoy being treated like a real bitch. The scent of her heat roars into life.

Without any warning he thrust his tongue as deep as he can into her opening. Not even giving her a chance to adjust to it before he’s also adding two fingers. Juices flood his mouth, but he laps them up. Intent on driving her into orgasm as quickly as possible.

Just like the last time she’s noisy, sound almost flowing from her mouth; though the closer she gets to coming the fewer actual words come out. They rise to a fever pitch as he spreads his fingers and gets pretty close to her g-spot with his tongue.

She howls, long and loud, as she begins to orgasm, her inner walls clenching almost impossibly tight around him. Gods, but she’s glorious like this, and he feels like a randy teenager, desperate to spill in her. It’s a little awkward to shove down his sweats in this position but he manages.

Her whine is of protest when he pulls out, but she happily wiggles in his grasp when he lifts her again. As he begins to lower he he can’t resist and leans in to suckle at her breast through the shirt. She yowls and he finds her hands once more in his hair. If she’s this sensitive already what will she be like four or five months down the line?

If his cock wasn’t rock hard already it is at that thought, and he lets his teeth transform into fangs, digging into the skin around her nipple. Another orgasm ripples through her and her grip on his hair tightens. “Deucalion,” she whimpers.

In a flash he’s pulled his head away and grabbing his cock he shoves her down onto it. It’s a fight to get into her still orgasming channel, but it’s worth it. Even if he doesn’t seat himself all the way in—he finds himself already worried for the safety of the pup—it’s still as fantastic as it had been yesterday.

Malia falls forward, her head lolling against his shoulder as she moans.

Despite his initial enthusiasm he takes this round slower, relishing the way her walls cling to him as he slides in and out. Her hips move erratically adding some spontaneity to his own actions. Turning his head he noses at her hair. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into her ear. “Already you’ve given me more than I could ever ask for.”

She all but purr under his praise.

“I know you’re going to be even better as you get older.” He’s going to make sure of it. “So perfect, everyone will be in awe.” Her hands bite into his shoulders again and he snarls as he starts to feel his knot form. “My perfect, precious mate.”

Just like that she’s orgasming again and he only manages to get the beginning of his knot in her, enough to tie them together—he has a feeling it’s going to be like that for a while until after she gives birth. He manages a few more short, sharp thrusts before he’s following and his shouting joins hers.

As her orgasm subsides she slumps further and further into him and he huffs with laughter as he nudges her. “Falling asleep on me?”

“Mmmmm, sleepy.” Her neck arches and a flash of arousal at the sight of his bite makes his cock twitch inside her. “Bed and cuddle,” it’s a command, but the effect is ruined with her sleepy slur.

Still he’s got nothing better to do today.

Easily he lifts her, and she begins a constant litany of mewls as he walks them to the bedroom, his stride jostling and moving his knot and cock; especially when he kicks off his sweats and makes quick work of her shirt and his jumper. Gently though he lays them both in bed, him on his side and her pressed firmly against him.

In this position it barely takes any movement to start rubbing his cheek against hers. He feels her mouth pull into a smile. “Scratchy.” Though she joins in, so she must not mind his stubble too much.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” he says softly. “I’ve got something important to tell you.”

She pulls away slightly and blinks sleepily. “Mmmwhat?”

He smiles. “You’re pregnant.”

Pure, unadulterated joy comes off her in waves. She leans in and kisses him.

Their first kiss, he realizes with a start as he returns it. When she pulls away her smile could replace the sun. “I can’t wait to see our pups Deucalion.”

“Pup,” he corrects. His family might have a propensity for twins but to be so lucky on the first is probably long odds.

Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head. “Pups,” she insists.

Since he doesn’t want to ruin their first twenty four hours together with an argument he doesn’t respond again, instead pulling her back to him and tucking her head into his shoulder. “Sleep precious.”

One of her arms slithers around him. “Stay with me this time my mate.”

“Of course,” he breathes into her hair.

Seconds later she’s fast asleep and he soon joins her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to chat with me about this fic (or Duke/Malia in general, or anything really), or see teasers/tastes of what's to come, then feel free to drop me an ask or follow me at [The Bitter Sea's Sweet Sailor](http://bitterseassweetsailor.tumblr.com/)!


	3. The Cabin, ch 2:  A Terrible Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as a brief warning there is animal death in this chapter, as well as a rather draconian thought by Malia in regards to the pups, also lots of use of the word 'bitch' in reference to female canid supernatural beings.
> 
> Chapter title comes from [this](http://beanpumpkinpoems.blogspot.com/2015/01/poem-11915-a.html) Bean poem.

Deucalion meanders through the aisles of the weekend farmer’s market, smiling at the stall-minders who smile at him. He’s never bothered keeping up the charade that he’s blind, not now that he’s trying to stay incognito; he only ever did what shopping he needed to at the market, and it was sunny enough that no one question ‘sunglasses’.

Even though he’s been here a month now he hasn’t quite let his guard down, added to that Malia’s sudden arrival into his life and he finds himself even more wary than before. So he’s constantly sorting through sounds as he buys everything they’ll need for the week. He’s perusing books—Malia’s complained about not having anything to do when he needs to go off and do other things—when a familiar voice catches his attention.

“...Seen my cousin?” Derek. Deucalion zeros in on the other wolf. There’s a crinkle that might be a photo.

A feminine hum. “Sorry dear, I haven’t seen her around,” Sympathy fills the woman’s voice. “You should go over to the Earthy Delights booth, Hallsy makes deliveries all over town, if anyone’s seen her it might be him.”

Derek thanks the woman and walks off. Deucalion doesn’t relax, but it does make him infinitely grateful that he’s managed to keep Malia away from town for now. He knows soon she won’t take no for an answer, but if he’s lucky he can put it off another week or two. Enough time for anyone in Beacon Hills not to realize how close she still is.

Then again if one of them did find out, he’s more than willing to kill them to make sure no one else does.

Keeping half his attention on Derek, who gets more negative answers—he keeps using cousin though and it’s starting to pique Deucalion’s interest—he finishes picking out a few books; one of which is a collection of folktales that Malia should enjoy.

The man running the till arches an eyebrow at the eclectic choices and Deucalion gives a little shrug. “The girlfriend’s indulging my ‘writer in a cabin in the middle of nowhere’ nonsense, but she’s getting a little antsy.”

Which earns him a commiserating chuckle. “I feel ya man. Hey, what’ca working on?”

He knows well enough that most authors love nothing more than to chatter on about their work, but he just gives the man a mysterious smile. “I’m not quite sure yet. Though to be fair I rarely do, drives the editor batty.”

“Well good luck dude, you want a bag for those?”

Deucalion nods and less than a minute later he’s on his way to his car, making sure to steer far clear of Derek still fruitlessly asking after Malia.

He won’t tell her about it of course, and he doesn’t quite have a good opening to ask her about any possible relation to the Hales; she’s chatted about those who used to be her pack off and on now that her heat’s died down, but the only thing she’s said about her own family is that her mother and sister’s deaths are what drove her live as a coyote for eight years and that her father drank too much.

If the Hale connection turns out to be true though he’ll enjoy the dark glee rushing through him. He remembers Talia being more than picky about who her pack dated and even beyond that with who they married/mated. She’d refused his suit to pursue Laura when the girl was old enough, and he highly doubts she’d much like Malia picking him for a mate.

But it’s done and even if Talia were still alive she couldn’t protest that.

As he drives he hopes Malia will enjoy the books. Though if she doesn’t...double checking he ticks off his mental calendar. Yes, tomorrow night should be more than enough to take care of any boredom she might be feeling.

-

Naked Malia lounges on the swinging bench on the porch, lazily watching the birds squabble over seed and bread chunks. If Deucalion sees her like this she’ll get another fond scolding. Though she doesn’t see what the problem is; the cabin’s well out of the way traffic-wise, and she’ll hear anyone approaching long before they got there regardless if they came from the woods or the highway ten miles south.

She’s just glad that the arousal flickering through her as the breeze teases her nipples isn’t accompanied by the fiery desire to mate. True she enjoys sex, and she wants pups; but she prefers not to be forced into either—though she won’t ever regret that her heat mated her to Deucalion.

During dinner last night he’d told her about heats and the purpose they served. While her mind understands why she’d been the only one affected; she still feels bitterness that Kira and Lydia hadn’t had to suffer with her. Especially Kira, if any of them had to go through a heat it should’ve been her; she was the Alpha bitch after all.

The sounds of birds squabbling draws her from her thoughts and she turns her head to see a crow trying to scare off a small flock of starlings. She wishes it luck; crows are useful.

They all fly away at the sound of a car approaching. She already knows it’s Deucalion, and she finds herself stretching out to display herself even though he’s too far away to see her. It hardly matters to her, she’s been more content this week than she has been since she became human again.

Granted she’s feeling restless, but she gets why Deucalion’s refusing her desire to do something out of the cabin; he’s a male with a pregnant bitch in a territory not his. If she were in his position she’d probably be acting the same. Chafes either way.

His car crackles to a halt in the gravel driveway and she smiles as she watches him climb out  and start grabbing bags. She can feel his gaze on her through those glasses of his as he climbs the steps. “Malia...”

She rolls her eyes. “What?” She smooths a hand down her stomach. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” It comes out more teasing than anything else; especially considering she could smell arousal coming off him in waves.

He shakes his head and gives a rueful chuckle. “If you keep this up you’re going to suck me dry.”

A laugh escapes her, that would certainly be a sight. “How’d it go?” From the sheer number of bags it’s clear he bought a lot; though she knows by next Saturday it’ll all be gone.

“Good.” He sets most of the bags down. “Got you some books.”

She perks up. The cabin has a shelf full of books, but they’re all boring poetry or tedious novels with far more pages than she can stand. However she’s more than willing to admit some of the poetry isn’t so bad when she listens to Deucalion read it to her. Avidly she watches him dig them out and sits up as he hands them over.

For the most part they look the sort of books she’s seen people around school reading for ‘fun’, and she only spares the barest of glances at the summaries on the backs. The last two books are what really catch her attention though.

The first is a book about pregnancy, and she finds herself staring at it. It’s not as if she’s suddenly realizing this is something that’s happening; no, after all this isn’t exactly the first time she’s carried pups. Though it is the first time she’s carried pups as a human, and yeah, the book’s a reminder that she knows less about herself than she’d like.

“Malia?”

She looks up from the book to see Deucalion kneeling in front of her. His hands come up to cup her cheeks and she closes her eyes, relishing the comfort. “I’m kind of scared.” She hates to admit it, but it’s the truth. Not just about the pregnancy either.

There’s a part of her that never really changed to human, that’s constantly pointing out that the Pack won’t take her back now. She tied herself to a wolf who wasn’t a member of the Pack, and an Alpha at that. She doubts Scott or Deucalion would submit to the other. Even if Deucalion weren’t an Alpha she doesn’t think Scott would welcome him into the pack, she’s seen the way he acts around a lot of the other supernatural adults they know. How he gets angry when talk starts drifting towards ‘this is way things should be’, as if they’re somehow wrong and he’s the only one who’s right.

On the other hand, Scott’s kind of the reason she’s in this dilemma in the first place; none of it would’ve happened if he’d just left her a coyote in the woods.

Deucalion moving her into his lap pulls her from her spiral. “Oh precious.” His cheek rubs against her temple. “I will always be there for you, never doubt that.” His voice deepens to growl, and he pulls away from her enough to look her in the eye. He’d lost his sunglasses and his glowing red eyes stare straight into her. “You’re mine.”

A soft whine leaves her and she bares her neck to him. The whine turns into a sigh when sharp teeth set themselves into the skin above her vein. She slumps into him, trusting absolutely; her own head ending up in the crook of his neck. “Mine,” she murmurs as she digs her own blunt teeth into his neck.

His pleased rumble is the only response she gets.

When they eventually break away he doesn’t let her go far, keeping her in his lap while a hand rubs her back. “I hope you like the last book more than others.” He sounds amused, though she’s not sure why.

His words are enough to pique her curiosity and she reaches for the last book. It’s cover is plain brown. The title is intriguing though: _American Trickster: Native tales of Coyote_. She opens it and is excited than she should be that the table of contents is a few pages long.

Turning she hugs Deucalion. “Thank you.” She knows that Coyote, and by extension werecoyotes, were considered tricksters, but she’s never gone out of her way to read any of the stories.

“It’s nothing. Though,” the hand on her back slows. “I do have one more gift for you.”

She arches into the touch. “Mmm, what?”

Deucalion gives a brief huff, “well tomorrow is the full moon.”

 _Oh_ , she slumps into him. She’d been trying to think of a way to breach that topic. Because as always she’ll need to be locked up and...

“And I was thinking we could go hunting.”

With a start she pulls away from him, “really?” She hasn’t been hunting since she became a human again, and she does miss it.

He nods and her heart nearly bursts with excitement. Leaning in again she kisses him, rubs her hip against his growing cock. Her favorite sort of snarl rumbles in his chest and she echoes it with a moan when claws prickle her sides.

She twists around and straddling him rubs her fluttering wet slit against his jeans. Whimpering her desire to have more. Less than a minute later he’s inside her, taking things torturously slow; and she finds herself relishing in it.

Malia loses track of time, but it feels like all too soon her orgasm crashes over her and she’s cut off mid-howl by Deucalion kissing her.

His own orgasm soon follows. After his knot deflates he pulls out and she makes an unhappy sound. His breath ruffles her hair as he scoops her up and settles her on the swing again. “Don’t worry precious, I just need to deal with the food before it spoils.”

Oh, well if that’s the case, she snuggles into the cushion on the swing and lets herself drift off into sleep.

-

The closer they come to sundown the more excited Malia gets, and the more Deucalion has to fight the urge to smile. He wonders if he’s even been so excited for something so normal, or anything at all. Granted it has been a while since he’s been hunting himself. And there is something infectious about her excitement.

She spins around and hums off-key as they deal with dinner dishes, and he allows himself a fond smile. He nudges her with his hip as she dries the last dish. “You’re at least going to wear something, please.” Despite his occasional chiding he enjoys coming back and finding her curled up naked somewhere, or stretched out for him like a feast. He’d just rather not have to chase after any human who might see more than they should, or report a streaker in the preserve. He doesn’t even care that one of his shirts might have to be sacrificed in the process.

She pouts but nods; vanishing back into their bedroom. As he’s putting away the last dish she returns, wearing a dark gray t-shirt that on her is long enough that he can barely see the ends of her jean cutoffs; he probably should see about getting her more clothes, even if she’d never wear them.

He walks up to her and sliding an arm around her waist lays a brief kiss on her nose. “Thank you.”

It earns him a little smile as she rubs their noses together then their cheeks. “Can we go now?” There’s a plaintive note in her voice, and her eyes are starting to flicker.

The smile he gives in return is full of wolfish teeth as he shifts; he doesn’t know about her, but he can feel the moon breaking over the horizon. “Of course.”

Her own features change, it’s the first time he’s seen it and it’s curious how her shift is slightly different. Before he can study her closer though she’s gone and he hears the screen door bang against the frame.

His wolf perks up at the thought of a chase. A good prelude to the rest of the night he hopes.

Closing his eyes he mutters a brief, half-forgotten prayer to Artemis before loping after her.

-

Malia’s bare feet dig into the soft earth as she runs through the preserve, the wind pushing at her back; upwind’s good for escaping, but not so good for seeing since it batters her hair constantly over her face. She should have tied it up before she left, oh well.

Her ears pick up the sound of pursuit and she smiles, putting on a burst of extra speed. _Chase me catch me_. Always a good test of a mate.

The scent of deer teases her nose and she veers towards it. She’s still running for Deucalion to chase, but now there’s also the promise of prey. Even though she already ate a large dinner her mouth waters at the thought of hot blood pouring into her mouth, or the tang of fresh liver, cracking bones between her teeth to slurp up the marrow.

Yes, deer sounds _fantastic_.

The closer she gets the more she can smell of them, a small herd of females about half of them pregnant. She moves away, staying upwind to not panic them; hopefully there’s a buck or two nearby that’ll be better hunting, instinct reminds her that by now they’ve lost their antlers.

Something, no someone, crashes into her side, hitting her higher up in the chest instead of around her waist. Which tells her exactly who it is, and when her vision reorients she sees Deucalion crouched above her, easily keeping her pinned to ground. His wolfishly exaggerated features are strangely appealing and she finds herself curious how close to wolf he can shift; would his cock be bigger? That’s a fun thought.

Baring her teeth she play struggles. He rumbles and dips down to run his nose against her neck. “I believe I won this one,” he purrs.

She squirms, arousal flickering through her. And yet. “Deer,” she tells him. “A nice juicy buck.”

His breath ghosts across her throat in silent laughter. “Should I be worried precious?”

What? She frowns but thinks about it for a second. Then giggles. “No, hunting doe just feels wrong.”

“I see.” He keeps nuzzling her for a few more seconds before getting up and offering her a hand. She takes it and starts scenting the air, searching for the familiar tang of buck. Deucalion’s hand presses into her left side and she turns with it, quickly getting the same noseful he is.

She can feel her eyes flare brighter.

Silently the begin making their way towards the buck, keeping upwind. He grasps her elbow and she stops. His scent swirls from excited to anticipation as they near, and silently make their plan.

When they break apart Deucalion stays where he is, while Malia begins making her way closer to the buck. Deucalion might have more power, but she’s faster; so he gets the unenviable job of scaring the buck into her eagerly waiting jaws.

The buck comes into view, but she’s upwind of him so the only thing she has to worry about is him hearing or seeing her. She steps slowly, picking her footing before she even moves. Once she’s in the right spot she chuffs. The buck hears the sound, but he only freezes for an agonizing minute before returning to his grazing.

She counts off the seconds, her heart pulsing in anticipation as the moment gets closer and closer.

Deucalion’s roar shatters the night and the buck leaps into movement heading just to the left of her. When he passes she begins to run, catching up. She can hear Deucalion crashing behind her, what little attention the buck can spare is on him, he doesn’t even notice her.

She pulls up a little ahead and lunges, claws and arms aimed right at it’s neck. Her teeth sink deep enough that blood fills her mouth and the buck squeals in pain and struggles to get away. Despite the fact she’s got a hold on him, he manages to drag her towards some unknown destination; her mind not giving her any ideas on how to snap his neck and end it.

Moments later though Deucalion is there, his heavier frame landing on the buck and snapping the neck with a sharp crack. She lets go as the buck collapses onto the ground; swallowing the blood she snuggles up to Deucalion smearing some of it on him. He returns the gesture, setting his teeth in her jaw for a brief moment before pulling away to begin butchering the deer.

Part of her is wishing they hadn’t had dinner now, letting so much good meat go to waste is a shame. She watches impressed though as he slices open the belly with one swipe; the guts slide out still steaming and she barrels past him, thrusting her clawed hands into the buck to search out the liver—it would be her face except without a muzzle it doesn’t work as well.

Deucalion growls at her, he’s the Alpha and made the kill which would entitle him to eat first. Except...she snarls back, she’s pregnant, a pregnant bitch _always_ eats first and that means she gets the liver. She gets her claws into the liver easy—happy she remembers where it is—and pulls it out; but as an apology she reaches back in, this time going sideways instead of straight. Finding what she’s looking for she pulls it out with a hard yank and offers him the still bloody heart.

His snarling subsides and he takes the heart, head dipping down briefly to lick a stripe through the blood on her hand. Offering accepted she tears into the liver, relishing the warm taste of it. Despite her full dinner she eats ravenously, gobbling it up until it’s gone. She licks most of the blood from her hands, then moves to do the same to her mate.

Another growl begins in his chest, though not an angry one. Halfway through her grooming of him he puts the rest of his uneaten heart back in the deer and with still bloody hands pins her the ground again, leaning down to clean the blood off her face. She begins to return the favor but it soon devolves into kissing and she writhes against him, though not to try and escape.

Their current position doesn’t give her anything to writhe against, his knees resting on her thighs, hands firmly grasping her wrists above her head. Plaintively she whines into his mouth, shamelessly begging for more.

His hands shift, one transferring her wrist to the second and she feels the ridges of his face rub her cheek as he moves down to her neck. The hand that’s now free drifts down and rucks up the shirt she’s wearing, smearing blood over her belly as it drifts up to her breast. She mewls and writhes at the sensation of him pinching a nipple; far more sensitive than before thanks to the pups in her belly.

She feels his sharp teeth skin into her skin as he marks her again, and she cries out in rapture; needing him inside her _now_. Clearly sensing her need his hand leaves her breast and makes quick work of her shorts; claw-free fingers sinking deep inside her and massaging her walls.

Orgasm crashes into her and she moans, his own rumble of pleasure vibrates through her body and seems to double her orgasm.

While orgasms and fingers are all well and good, it’s not what she really wants. With teeth bared in a silent snarl she bucks violently, managing to dislodge both his hand inside her and his knees; a mere heartbeat later her breath rushes out of her as he lands completely on her, his cock perfectly nestled into the v of her thighs, still held back by his jeans.

Which won’t do at all. He pulls away from the crook of her neck again and looks her in the eye, the deep red of them glowing brightly in the dark. She feels her own eyes flare in response and surprise comes off in in waves. Taking advantage she tears her arms free and uses them to get his pants down as quickly as possible.

His cock is hot in her hands, and with relish she leads it to her grasping opening. She’s only just gotten the head of him in when his hands spring into action again and grab her wrists once more, tugging her hands away from his cock.

A sound of protest begins to escape her, but gets cut off by a gasp of pleasure when his hips jerk and he slides the rest of the way in bumping into her cervix; she’d finally asked him about it, and he’d seemed downright shocked that she didn’t know—it wasn’t as if anyone in the pack had taken the time to educate her about human sex beyond the basics.

With that thought a semblance of humanity returns to her and she bares her teeth at Deucalion. “More,” she snaps. She knows he’s worried about accidentally hurting the pups, but if they’re weak enough to be killed by a little rough sex then perhaps they don’t deserve to survive.

He bares his teeth right back, making him seem even more wolfish. Once again he lets go of her hands and grasps her thighs, moving them to wrap around his waist, changing the angle slightly. Now his every thrust ends against her cervix, it’s both too much and not enough.

She can feel his knot beginning to form, the top of it stretching her everytime he slams in, but she knows it won’t enter her completely unless he manages to get in her womb again.

Moving one of her hands to where they’re joined she manages to wiggle a finger to her clit, rolling her finger around it and pressing down over and over until another orgasm hits her, he trusts as she begins to squeeze and flutter around him, cervix included and she shudders when she feels him slide right through it; his knot right where it should be. A howl of triumph escapes her.

Claws pierce her hips and she soon feels his seed fill her, attempting to do a job that’s already done.

He gathers her close and rubs his nose against her hair. “Malia,” he murmurs. “I told you we need to be careful.”

She grimaces and scrapes her teeth against his cheek. “But I like the way it feels.” She laps up the blood before his wounds close. “Anyways,” she gives a sniff. “Our pups can take it.” Almost docilely she begins to finish the job she’d started before sex and licks his face again.

Under her ministrations his face shifts back to it’s more human form, which makes getting all the blood easier. When she finishes she rubs her cheeks against his vigorously, covering him in her scent again.

He chuffs and snagging her wrists starts to clean them; every stroke of his tongue filling her with lazy contentment. She turns her head to allow him to get at the blood on her cheek and finds herself staring at the deer. A small sigh escapes her at the thought of all that wasted meat.

“What’s wrong?” His nose buries itself behind her ear.

She moves closer to him, re-orienting herself to the feel of him locked firmly within her. “All that meat, and we’re wasting it.” Though she’s certain her fellow coyotes will thank them.

“Nonsense,” he replies. “We can take it back to the cabin with us, the freezer’s big enough to hold all of it. When we get back I’ll show you how to butcher it.” His hand slides over her mouth, pressing her lips against her teeth. “And don’t apologize, I dare say I think enough like a human for the both of us.” He removes his hand and gives her a soft kiss, tongue sliding in between her lips to stroke at her mouth. When he pulls away there’s a toothy smile on his face. “Never apologize for what you are or how you think.”

A warmth she’s not sure she can put  name to fills her at his words. There’s something gratifying about a mate that didn’t want to change her.

-

When Deucalion’s knot finally deflates he pulls out of her slowly, both wanting to stay inside her and wanting to get back to the cabin.

He tidies himself up quickly, but Malia takes her time; her eyes avidly watching as he tears out all the inedible parts of the deer, all the while her own fingers are dipping into her leaking cunt to swipe up any escaping semen, licking her hand clean—as thorough in that as she had been cleaning him of blood. He tears his eyes away and focuses on his task, talking her through the cuts needed to prep a deer for moving, otherwise he’s liable to throw her on the ground and fuck her again.

She seems insatiable when it comes to sex and he’s starting to wonder if they’ll soon be hitting ‘too much’ on his end. He can worry more about that later, right now they need to be getting back.

Leaving the undesirable parts where they are he scoops up the carcass and hefts it onto his shoulder. “Come on,” he speaks softly.

She nods, straightens her clothes so she’s acceptable and they trek back to the cabin. Once they’re back he strings the buck up and shows her how to skin it and portion out the cuts properly.

That done she starts bagging the meat to store while he deals with the hide and the bones that can’t be broken for marrow—Malia could use every ounce of nutritious food he could give her—making sure they’re far, far away from the cabin and out of sight.

When he returns again Malia’s naked once more, curled up in bed. Though only half asleep if they way she moves towards him when he climbs in is any indication. He willingly gathers her up though, pressing her to his side.

“Malia,” he whispers fingers tilting her chin up so he can get a good look at her face, wanting to check one last thing before they sleep; just in case he’d somehow fooled himself during sex. “I need you to open your eyes and flare them for me.”

She makes a sleepy sound of protest, but her lashes flutter and he’s soon staring into sleep hazy eyes. A second later they’re glowing bright, the same color he’d seen earlier. He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you precious.”

Her eyes close and she buries her face in his shoulder once more.

He settles back against the pillows, mind whirring.

Now that he thinks about it, it's understandable; even if it’s something he’s never seen before. She’s mated to an Alpha after all, and if he brings anyone into their pack, or after the pup is born, she’ll be Alpha as well.

So yes, her violet eyes make perfect sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I'm totally leaving you hanging with that (you could come yell at me at [the blog](http://bitterseassweetsailor.tumblr.com/) if you really wanted too...)
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, I'm kind of posting these as I finish them and I've got other projects (though no other Malia/Duke stuff) I'm writing as well; but hopefully during Camp NaNo this year I'll get a lot more of it written.
> 
> On chapter stuff: the liver, ounce for ounce, is the most nutritious part of any body; while apparently the heart is the most tender. Also, marrow is just straight up delicious.
> 
> The book on Coyote Duke gets Malia isn't actually real, but it should be.


	4. The Cabin, chapter 3: Like Flowers Tressed in My Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK? BACK AGAIN? KAI IS BACK! ~~but for how long is the real question~~
> 
> I feel really bad for not touching this thing in a year, I didn't mean for this much time to pass, this fic just sort of sadly fell by the wayside of my writing, and it certainly didn't help that a new fandom kind of came in and consumed me. Hopefully a ridiculous amount of sex makes up for it.
> 
> Chapter title comes from [this poem](http://beanpumpkinpoems.blogspot.com/2015/01/blog-post.html).

Their full moon hunting trip earns Deucalion a whole week and a half of content Malia before she starts asking to come into town with him again. Granted he’s now more willing to let her, having seen hide nor hair of anyone from Beacon Hills last weekend. Which doesn’t mean his paranoia’s died down, just that he’s willing to take the risk. Especially if it means more clothes for her.

Since it’s getting to be around lunch time he pulls out the last of the deer and sets it out to defrost. In the bedroom he can hear Malia give a sleepy murmur, and he finds himself smiling in pride. After he’d first noticed it on the full moon he pays close attention to her eyes whenever she flares them, watching them get more and more red as the time passes.

Giving into the instinct he pads over to the bedroom, peering in on Malia splayed out on her stomach, still fast asleep. His smile turns warmer, though as she shifts slightly onto her side it does bring another fact into sharp light.

Her belly is already starting to swell.

It’s only been a month since he impregnated her yet her belly has the gentle curve he’d associate with women further along.

It doesn’t seem to bother Malia at all, and he’s caught her staring at her reflection more than once, scent filling with joy and pleasure. So he tries not to let it bother him as well, even if it’s hard.

For now he’s distracted by her body moving again. She’s on her back; proudly displaying, even if she doesn’t know it, her growing breasts and dripping slit.

With a groan he approaches the bed, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Moving so he’s half-standing, half-kneeling on the bed he reaches out a hand, smoothing it up her splayed leg, digging his fingers in for a moment at her thigh, massaging the skin there.

He slides his hand back down, then up again, repeating the process. Malia murmurs and shifts closer, but doesn’t wake.

Growing a bit bolder the next time he slides his hand up he grazes it across her clit, flicking the nub lightly. Her hips cant a little, and she sighs. He moves his hand up even further this time, sliding across her golden skin to her breasts, taking one in each hand, he pinches and tweaks her sensitive nipples insistently. Enjoying the way she squirms under the attention, eyes fluttering open. “Deu... _oooo_.” She arches into his hands as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, giving it a greedy suck; no milk comes out, but he finds himself curious to taste it when she does begin to lactate.

He pulls away, but not before giving her abused nipple a final lick. Malia whines and arches, demanding more. His hands drift down to her waist, thumbs beginning to massage the skin right above her buldge. “I’ve got a surprise for you?”

“Mmm, what?” She gives a luxuriant stretch and he just watches her muscles avidly as they move and stretch.

Sliding his hands down to her thighs he massaged them again. “I thought tomorrow we could go into town, get you some clothes.”

Her eyes brighten and she smiles. “I’d love that.”

A smile crosses his face and he moves one of his hands from her hip to rub the swollen lips of her vulva. At his action her legs parted even further, silently begging him to play. As he’s finding out, it’s hard for him to deny her much.

His fingers slip in effortlessly, sliding in deep. He pulls them most of the way out seconds later, intent on giving Malia something different today. Crooking his fingers he presses them up, hitting her g-spot. Something his knot hits every time yes, but he’s curious to see how she reacts to the same stimulation without his cock inside her.

She moans, hips canting again, wanting more.

He’s more than happy to give it. Massaging the swollen flesh of her g-spot he brings his free hand over her mound, to about the same spot his fingers are at inside her. He keeps in there for now, an insistent heat against her as his fingers drive her into an orgasm just by petting and stroking her.

Malia begins whimpering, clearly expecting something larger inside of her than what’s producing the sensations she’s experiencing. Which only serves to make him grin. She barely knows anything about her body, but that works in his favor, allowing him to show her what feels good without dealing with many of the ‘taboos’ that humans seem to slap on everything.

Deciding it’s time to give her the orgasm she wants he presses his fingers inside her up, at the same time as he presses his hand down; applying pressure to both sides of her g-spot. Underneath him her body goes ramrod stiff as she screams out her pleasure, ejacualte drenching his hand.

Slowly he pulls his hands from her, her body shaking and quivering from the aftershocks. “Deucalion, _please_.” Her eyes beg as she watches him clean his hand, savoring the salty-sweetness of her. “Fuck me…”

He groans at her demand, leaning over and kissing her.

“What did you do to me?” She pants when he pulls away, she doesn’t sound angry, but definitely curious.

Nuzzling her hair he climbs more fully onto the bed. “I was stimulating your g-spot, precious. I do it all the time with my knot, but wanted to see if I could get you to squirt.”

Once he’s fully on the bed she presses herself against him completely, rubbing herself against his jeans. “I felt like I was pissing myself, but oh God it felt so good.”

Smiling into her hair he pulls away and kisses her again. “Well it certainly wasn’t piss sweetheart.” And honestly? He’s seen enough werewolves in America actually pissing to mark territory that he’s become unbothered by it. “I'm glad you liked it.”

Her hands slide under his shirt, nails scraping against his back. “Now actually fuck me.”

“My pleasure.”

-

The next morning Malia wakes early, even though she knows it will be a few hours before they head into town she finds she can’t wait, eagerness tangling her belly just as surely as the pups do.

Deucalion stirs as she slides out of bed, but doesn’t wake. Proof of their bond. She pads to the bathroom and flicking on the light she looks at herself in the mirror.

Already she’s swelling from the pups and it’s such a relief; in the book he’d gotten her it’d said humans carried their pups for nine months, her mind boggles at that. She’s so glad it’s apparently different for werecoyotes, she couldn’t imagine carrying her pups for nine whole months.

Soon she’ll give birth and hopefully after she and Deucalion can enjoy themselves more before he breeds her again. Not that she would mind that, though hunting while pregnant was never fun.

Inspection done she pads back into the bedroom and out into the living space, her belly telling her to eat.

Goosebumps break out over her skin as she opens the fridge door and roots around. Pulling out an apple she bites into it as she pulls out this and that hoping the sound would wake Deucalion and they could have breakfast—she wonders if Deucalion would teach her how to cook, she thinks it’d be interesting to learn.

When she can’t think of anything else she wants she closes the fridge, finding herself pouting that Deucalion still isn’t awake yet. On light feet she makes her way back to the bedroom, he’s laying on his back now, the sheets tangled up in his legs in an enticing manner.

Heat beginning to fill her she pads to the bed, slowly climbing on. If he could start to fuck her while she was asleep she doesn’t see why she couldn’t either. She takes his half-hard cock in hand—she could use her hands to make him harder or use her mouth like Stiles had shown her, but both seemed a waste when she knew exactly where she wants him—and slinging one leg over his hips began to lower herself.

It feels different with his cock only half full, but she finds herself relishing the way it stretches and fills her as it grows. Her hands on his chest help her move and she’s unsurprised to see that her claws are out, digging into his skin.

“Getting impatient are we precious?” Deucalion tries to sound chiding but his grunts as his hips begin to thrust ruins it and she laughs as she grinds down, trying to get that last bit inside her.

She just snarls in response, it quickly turning to a howl of pleasure as she orgasms and her hips finally met his. Her claws dig in further as her cunt squeezes tight around him, making it impossible for him to do anything other than lie there. It’s as amazing as always it’s...she screams and finds herself bearing her teeth in a grin as she feels his knot begin to swell, his own orgasm following and filling her. She knows that she’s already pregnant and that him flooding her womb won’t do anything, but she doesn’t care, it’s how she always wants it.

Her arms give out and she slumps onto him, managing to twist herself so she doesn’t land on her belly and hurt the pups. Lazily her fingers wipe off the blood from the furrows she’d made in his chest, licking her fingers clean. “Mmm, morning. Fix me breakfast?”

Deucalion laughs as his arms wrap around her and he’s kissing her.

-

Despite Malia’s apparent excitement at being able to go into town he can also smell nervousness coming off her. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s kept her sequestered in the cabin for well over a month, and by her own admission she didn’t do much socializing before that; so her being nervous makes perfect sense.

He doesn’t say anything to try and comfort her, knowing that words would be next to useless for her. Instead once he’s finished with breakfast he sets their plates down, and after taking his seat, pulls her from her own onto his lap, she yips a him, a smile growing on her face.

As she begins eating he nuzzles her, behind her ear, the back of her neck, her temple, all the while rumbling softly, his hands keeping a sturdy hold of her hips. She practically melts into him and he smiles into her hair, he’d love to see that Stilinski boy try and comfort her like this, like a wolf would.

Once she’s fully relaxed he begins eating himself, the wolf in him all but purring at how unanxious she is now. He’ll do anything she wants to keep her happy and pleased, she’s _his_ and he won’t ever give her up now that he has her.

With a sigh Malia leans her head back against his shoulder, her plate clean. He turns her so she can be more comfortable—and have better access to his own neck—and begins to eat one handed, his other running up and down her side. Not to arouse, but to keep her in this relaxed state as long as possible.

Soon even his food is gone, and after a few more pleasant moments of her cuddling against him he gently lifts her off. “Ready to go?” She’s back in clothes she’d been wearing, well alright _not_ wearing, when he’d first found her, one of his shirts over her tank-top to help hide some of the tears—and because she’d wanted to wear it. She’s beautiful, and with her growing belly it’s hard not to call off this whole trip and just keep her here, all to himself, until he’s holding their pup in his hands.

That wouldn’t keep her happy, so together they’ll go. If nothing else it will be a good test of his senses to make sure that no one catches onto her.

“Yes.” She all but rushes to the door, shoving her feet into the flip-flops he brought her when he realized she didn’t have any shoes—not that he felt she needed them, it’s a joy to watch her run barefoot; of course humans don’t see things the same way.

Before she can dash to the car however he stops her, sweeping her up and feeling his heart race slightly at her joyful laugh. “There’s something I want to do first,” he tells her as he settles her on the porch railing.

“Alright,” she agrees, without even asking what it is and he finds himself growing hard again, absent moon but she’s really _is_ going to drain him dry at this rate. He can feel her eyes on him as he goes to where the clearing of their little cabin ends and where the woods begin. Finding what he’s looking for he begins to pick, not returning to her until he’s got a nice handful of carnations, all of different colors.

He moves around to her back, where her golden hair is just the right height for his hands. Setting the flowers down he combs his fingers through the locks and smiles as her head tilts back at the action.

His fingers fumble in the beginning, but they soon pick up the familiar childhood rhythm and only a few minutes later her hair’s done up in a braid, carnations woven in. When she turns her head to look at him it makes her look even more wild and of the forest and with a groan he finds himself pressing fully against her back, at this rate they won’t leave the house until well in the afternoon.

But he can’t help himself, his hands snake around, one sliding up to cup her breasts, the other down to her inner thigh, and then up again when her legs fall open, easily reaching her already wet slit through the meager remains of her shorts and panties.

It’s not even a minute later before she’s orgasming around him, body arching and eyes rolling back as she cries out. Had he known before hand all the suffering and agony he’s gone through in the past twenty years would lead to this, he would have gone through them all over again.

She, she was worth _all_ of that.

Malia slumps against him again, this time in post-coital bliss. “Love you, my mate.” His fingers hesitate as they’re pulling out of her, making her whimper and clench around him. Her words catching him off guard.

Almost viciously he turns her around, bending down slightly so he can kiss her properly. Feeling as wild as she looks. When he pulls away she’s not the only one breathing heavily. “I’m _never_ letting you go Malia, I don’t care if it means I have to kill everyone in the world, _you’re mine_.” He can’t quite say that he loves her, but he’s sure given time it will come as easy to him as telling her she’s his.

She lifts herself up slightly and rubs her cheek against his neck. “I know, Deucalion, my Alpha.”

With a smile he leads finishes leading the way and once they’re both in the car he starts heading towards the highway, unexpected nerves of his own start to tangle in his belly. The feel of her hand on his thigh doesn’t make him twitch, he just wasn’t expecting it. “We’ll be fine,” her tone is somewhere between carefree and breezy. “I can take care of myself and I know you’ve got my back.”

He smiles at her words, one full of teeth he knows she’ll appreciate more. “Indeed.” But it makes him consider again the thought of having some Betas, strengthening the pack even more. He’ll need all the help he can get if she wants more pups. That can wait for a while yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this gif set](http://bitterseassweetsailor.tumblr.com/post/119317796479) is the inspiration for the first scene.
> 
> I don't know when I'll have the next chapter out, but it will hopefully be soon!


	5. The Cabin, ch 4: Rough Terrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems I'm destined to write one chapter a year of this fic. But at least I'm writing? It has been a busy year for me, mostly because I threw myself headfirst into original writing for the first time in forever. Hell I've even completed a few novels and am now knee deep in editing (the worst/best y'all).
> 
> Title comes from [this poem](http://beanpumpkinpoems.blogspot.com/2015/01/poem-12915-a.html) (which is both true in plot and in writing this, hopefully now that I'm out of this 'rough spot' the going will be easier and I'll update more...but don't hold me to that)

Malia feels tension in the knot of her stomach, and she has to wonder if this is what morning sickness is supposed to feel like. She’s been lucky enough to escape it so far, but the human pregnancy book said it was common. She hopes it’s not, because it’s pointless and disgusting.

All over going into _town_. It’s true she doesn’t like most social situations—school had been a _horror_ and she’s glad she doesn’t have to go back—but this should be easy.

Deucalion, sensing her tension, takes his hand off the gearshift and places it on the bare skin of her thigh, thumb brushing her skin. “You’ll be alright precious,” he rumbles. “I’ll be here to help if you need it.”

She likes that, that he assumes that she doesn’t _require_ his help, but might need it. She sets her hand on top of his own, trying to distract herself from the thoughts of her first few weeks as a human again, when she’d been in Eichen and everyone had thought she couldn’t do _anything_ on her own.

“Thank you.” Leaning over to him she nuzzles his neck.

“I’m not sure I should be accepting thanks for something every mate should do.”

Well when he puts it like _that_.

-

The foray into town is only a disaster inasmuch that Malia doesn’t find many clothes that she likes. Which doesn’t bother Deucalion that much, except that their only option might be to go and get clothes from her house. A far more risky prospect, and one he’s not willing to entertain at the moment.

He’s sure he’s going to have to soon. Especially if he wants some of her documentation too—it will be easier for his forger to make her a passport, and at this point it’s becoming a real possibility that they leave the country. Staying here, while a wonderful sort of ‘honeymoon’ isn’t feasible in the long run. They’ll have to move eventually and he wants all traces of Malia Tate covered so that her former pack won’t come haring after them.

On the upside of the trip he did buy some baby supplies. If Malia’s already showing as much as she is than he wants to plan for any eventuality that he can.

He’s certain that’s going to be the norm when it comes to being with Malia.

She’s asleep by the time they get to the cabin and he carries her inside and tucks her in before retrieving their things.

After putting them away he gets his laptop out and settles on the couch, the sounds of Malia sleeping soothing as he works. He sends an email to Daniel letting the man know he needs a passport, that he’ll send the rest of the details in the morning. A fact which cements them going to her old place. He won’t be able to get what Daniel will need otherwise.

The wolf in him isn’t happy about that. He and Malia are bound together, by more than just pack bonds, but there’s the niggling fear that someone from McCall’s pack might be able to steal her away from him. Not that he’d let it stand for long. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he’d kill everyone if it meant she stayed by his side.

If the only stop they make is where her father lives than it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. It’d only be an old drunk and a dog. Hardly enough to even shift for.

In an attempt to distract himself he looks at flight prices. He’ll bring it up tonight, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. It will be strange returning to London after so long away. Since he left he’s only kept minimal contact with his sister, enough to know things are going better for her than they were for him.

Things have changed now, for him at least, which should give him some more bargaining power. His sister had only married to please their parents, and had flat out refused on the suggestion of bearing children. Easy enough to suggest her having one of his own pups become her heir. The sort of clever political move she’d approve of even. It wouldn’t even require Malia giving the pup up, not with Kip’s disinterest in children altogether.

Yes, that would work out well for all parties.

He found himself sending an email off to her, letting her know he would be returning soon, and that he would need a house prepared. London wouldn’t have the freedom of the cabin, but he hoped Malia would come to love it. There were a few country homes if not.

First though to get those documents, and propose the moving idea. Marriage might be a good idea as well. A pointless human gesture in the face of what they already shared. Yet it would muddy the waters as it were, especially if they married somewhere other than California. He sent another brief email to Daniel to notify him of the name change then closed his laptop.

Undressing he crawled into bed, things were going to start changing soon.

-

Malia finds herself nervous as they drive towards Beacon Hills. However unwelcome this place had been her home. If a home that had constrained and limited her.

Deucalion hasn’t spoken since they left the cabin, since he told her what he would like them to do.

Marry, leave the states, return to his sister and settle themselves into a city so large part of Malia couldn’t comprehend it. Even as a coyote Beacon Hills had been the largest gathering of humans she’d ever experienced. London is a place with _millions_ of people. How could anyone endure that? How would she be able to cope? She’s ‘human’ enough to trust others to look after her, but with pups on the way she wants to trust only Deucalion, trust whatever packmates he deigns to accept. _Those_ people she will trust with her pups. Anyone else...how can she know?

It’s almost enough to make her want to say no. The two of them can manage life in the cabin, them and  their pups and no one else.

Yet a different part of her balks at that. How limiting _that_ is, to have only a few miles and nothing past family-pack. A clash with Scott and his pack would be inevitable, and even if she’s left them for other prospects she doesn't want them _hurt_.

“We’re here.” Deucalion’s voice is soft, enough to break through her thoughts however.

As she climbs out of the car she can see the house in the distance. It’ll take them a few minutes to walk, but that’s better than someone hearing the car and coming out to investigate. Now she leads the way, footing sure as she approaches the house.

Henry forgot to turn on the porch light, which works in her favor. An easy enough thing to bust the door knob and enter. Behind her Deucalion tenses at the soft chuffing sound that fills the room as the door creaks. “Apollo hush,” Malia hisses. If need be she can growl the dog into submission, but he knows her scent and voice and should settle, she hopes.

He does. Relieved she turns to Deucalion. “I don’t know where Henry keeps the records.” She hadn’t been interested in knowing as a child and hadn’t cared after she’d been jerked into humanity. “Apollo shouldn’t bother you while you look. I’ll go get clothes.”

Deucalion nods and gives a cursory kiss as he passes. She watches him vanish down the hall before she works up the courage to climb the stairs.

Everything is familiar yet not. Hazy childhood memories distort her perception, setting off alarms in her head. Closing her eyes she leans against the wall and takes deep breaths, she’d managed this before she can do it again. The sounds of heartbeats help calm her down, Henry, Apollo, Deucalion, and...a frown crosses her face.

Pushing away from the wall she stalks towards her room, the fourth heartbeat leading her on.

The door isn’t closed all the way and she pushes it open with care, mindful of the squeaky hinge. Moonlight streams through ratty curtains, revealing Stiles, curled up asleep in what used to be her bed.

It’s unexpected to see him after almost three months. The fact he’s _here_ is what catches her off guard, does Henry know? He might be too drunk to even  notice. A breeze coming from outside tells her the window’s open, maybe Stiles climbs in. It would explain why they hadn’t seen his jeep on their approach.

Seeing him doesn’t weaken her resolve. A fact she’s grateful for. Like Beacon Hills Stiles had tried to tame her, make her fit in the boxes humans made. Even as she’s bitter about it there is a grateful bit that he _tried_ to help her.

Keeping her footsteps light she snags the backpack Lydia and Kira had helped her pick out then goes to her dresser. Grabbing clothes she shoves them in, packing in every pocket until the whole thing is almost impossible to zip shut.

“Malia?” For a moment she thinks it’s Stiles, but it’s only Deucalion. She turns to see him in the doorway, gaze on Stiles.

“I got clothes,” she goes to him. “Find what you were looking for?” She keeps her voice low, Stiles isn’t a light sleeper, but hearing her voice might still wake him.

Deucalion nods. Attention still on the sleeping Stiles. “Second thoughts?”

Part of her is relieved he asked, the rest of her is annoyed. “No.” Hard to snap and keep your voice low at the same time. “We should leave before he wakes up. The window’s open.”  Easier to jump than to creep back the way they came.

She lets him go first, waits until he gets all the way to the woods before making her own way out. She’s on the roof when she hears movement from the bed. Without thinking she makes the jump and _runs_ , almost hitting into Deucalion in the process.

He catches her, a soothing rumble starting up the moment he does so. Malia melts into it, breathing licorice and woodsmoke deep into her lungs. Buries her face into his shirt, lets him watch for movement. She hates her reactions to what happened, that even in sleep Stiles managed to get a rise out of her.

It almost makes her want to go back up there and drag him with them. He’s smart, smarter than he lets on, that intelligence would be a good asset to the pack. Yet Stiles is even more ingrained with Scott than she’d been, if he goes missing there’s no telling what the others would do. Let alone Stiles himself, not likely to accept being kidnapped.

Or maybe it’s just an urge to drag him outside and kill him.

Deucalion’s grip on her loosens. “Let’s go.” If she weren’t his mate that terse tone would worry her, make her think he’s unhappy with her. She knows better.

Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders she follows him through the woods back towards their car. Going back to the cabin and curling up in bed with a books sounds like just what she needs. Something to sooth her while Deucalion finishes his work. Sex would work just as well she knows, but she’d guess it’d be hard for him to work if they fucked.

Her shoulders relax as she climbs into the car, everything about it familiar enough for her instincts. Malia finds her mouth opening to speak, but before she can Deucalion puts a hand on her knee. “If you’re going to apologize Malia there’s no need. You can’t control the way you react to certain things, and I’m sure Stiles will always be one of those things.” He takes one of her hands in his own and brings it up to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. “I trust you.”

“I know.” A shaky smile crosses her face.

He lets go of her hand and pulls out into the road. She’s content to pass the drive in silence, her own thoughts enough to occupy her.

Deucalion’s trust leads her back to Stiles, well not him as a person. Him as a concept. The idea of him joining their pack. While before she’s been more than content to have just the two of them, and the soon to be born pups, she finds herself wanting _more_.

There needs to be more of them, easier to keep each other safe, watch each other’s back. Know that there’s someone you can go to if need be.

On the other hand if they bite someone here would it be a good thing? If they do go to London then they’d be uprooting their Beta too. Which is an Alpha’s prerogative she knows, but it’s also not fair to them. If they do wait until London will she be able to stand it? It’s a strange thing to realize this urge has been building in her, like her heat months before. Like that this feels _right_.

The sound of the engine cutting off pulls her from her thoughts.

She finds herself trailing after Deucalion as they go inside the cabin, he drops off the papers in the kitchen and then they both head to the bedroom. She dumps her backpack next to the dresser.

Her next actions aren’t ones she thinks about, the instinct of them too deep for that.

She pounces on Deucalion, catching him off guard they both go falling towards the bed. Perfect. He makes a sound of faint warning, not stopping her, but questioning. Malia flares her eyes and snarls right back. While she’s usually more than happy to let him have control during sex _this_ is what she needs.

His eyes flare in response, but he doesn't fight when she tears his shirt off, her hips grinding down on him even with their jeans still separating them. The abrasive sensation’s too good to pass up, how harsh it feels on her clit as she rubs herself.

Her claws trail down his chest for a moment before she destroys her own shirt, body arching and claws digging deep into him as a small orgasm ripples through her. Unable to stop she shreds her already threadbare shorts fighting with herself between taking off his pants and continuing to rub herself off.

The need to be filled wins out and she slides off him, making short work of shoes and pants. Then she returned, and oh, this was much better. Feeling the pulse of his hard cock as she rubbed up and down it, teasing him. A snarl leaving her when he tried to grab her hips.

When his hands buried themselves in the sheets she rewards him by sliding onto him. A pleased sound leaving her at how much he stretches her. Again her claws dig into his chest as she works herself up and down, panting and moaning as she worked to take all of him. It’ll be worth it.

It almost feels like she’s fighting herself, every inch of that cock a fight to take in. Deucalion’s sounds echo her own, even if she’s the one doing all the work he’s enjoying it as much as she is.

When he hits her cervix she howls, almost there. Her hips thrust down but there’s more resistance than she expects. As if her body won’t allow it this time. Lost in instinct as she is she doesn’t dwell on it long, the need to take her pleasure more important. With a soft snarl she rolls her hips, eager for her orgasm and his knot.

As she begins to feel it grow she arches down, her hands letting go of him to press against the bed instead, giving her a better angle. His knot stretches her opening and feeling her eyes flare she bites down, teeth sinking deep into his shoulder. It’ll keep this time she knows, proof that he’s _hers_. It almost makes her want to carve her name onto him, make sure no one doubts it.

Deucalion roars and she roars back, her sound muffled but no less strong. Orgasm crashes over both of them and it leaves her feeling boneless, jaw loosening enough for her to pull away as her weight falls onto him completely.

Together they lay there, panting. Malia not quite knowing what came over her, but knowing she enjoyed it. Arms wrap around her and before she can blink Deucalion’s turned them onto their sides, making it easier for her to look at his face. The smile on his face taking her aback. “There it is.”

She can’t work up the energy to frown, but she manages speech. “What?”

One of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin. “Go see for yourself.” He lays a peck on her lips. “Flare your eyes in the bathroom mirror.”

While she wants to stay here and just bask in warmth and sex, curiosity tugs her forward. She escapes his grasp easily and makes her way to the bathroom on shaky legs.

She doesn’t bother to turn the light on, she’ll be able to see well enough without it.

Taking a deep breath she reaches inside herself and flares her eyes.

For a moment her mind can’t believe it, convinced it’s some sort of trick.

Pulling back her eyes return to normal. She does it again, and again, and again.

No matter what she does it doesn’t change.

Gone are her electric blues. In their place bloody red.

Alpha red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We almost had a whole chapter of plot and no sex, granted it was plotty sex, but still. xD
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it!


	6. The Cabin, ch 5: California Never Felt Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap, two chapters in the span of a month? Say it ain't so!
> 
> chapter title comes from "Drive" by Halsey.

Monotonous desert passes by the windows, attempting to lull Malia to sleep. She fights it, nerves and excitement helping.

They haven’t talked much about her being an Alpha, not yet. Deucalion more focused on getting them ready to leave. They’d talked long about it and even if she’s not completely convinced she knows it’s a better idea than staying. She knows they’re headed to Nevada, Las Vegas even. Easier to get married, easier to become lost in the crowd.

Until then there’s only the desert and them. “How did you become an Alpha?” Now that she’s one she’s curious.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a smile tug at his lips. “Inheritance, is perhaps the best way to put it. I found myself eager to change the world like many children do, it meant that I clashed often with my mother who was the Alpha. Once I was old enough I came to America, to learn of how packs operated here, thinking there was something I could learn. I took on a new name and found myself welcomed into a pack in Boston. A few  years later all I had learned was that the east coast was much like Europe. Too many beings packed too close together for anyone to do much in the way of change.

“With the blessings of that pack I headed out west. Ended up in Colorado, with another pack. They were more wary than their eastern brethren. Omega out west has taken much different connotations than on the east coast or in Europe. I proved myself and became one of them. Rose up in the pecking order as the years passed, until I was second in command. Back home, becoming Alpha is hereditary, if your parent is the current Alpha then when the time comes you, or one of your siblings, will take their place. Not so here.

“James was growing older, too old to lead well. So he gave me that power, in front of all the pack. Some would have prefered if someone else had taken his place, but he felt he’d chosen wisely with me and was content to serve as a Beta and advisor until he died peacefully in his sleep.”

Malia finds herself wrinkling her nose. “That sounds boring.”

“Did you perhaps expect more murder and plotting?” Deucalion’s smile is a full one at the tease. “Not every place is Beacon Hills precious. Although Americans do have a penchant of Betas rising up to kill their Alphas. At least in non-family based packs.”

They pass through a town, even to Malia it looks like it’s on its last leg. “Will you still be an Alpha when we go to London?” Now that she has it she finds she doesn’t want to pass it on, she wants _them_ to have a pack, not to be a part of someone else’s.

“Most likely. The way packs are structured in Europe is much different. My family’s pack covers nearly half of England, the main body resides in London and then around the country there are Alphas that answer to my sister. Betas move between the various groups until they find one that fits them. There are even instances of trading Betas between packs. It’s most likely that you and I will become one of those satellite Alpha, we answer to my sister, but are otherwise unchecked.”

“Good.” Malia might not know Deucalion’s sister, but she trusts that he does. The idea of various Alphas working under the umbrella of another is strange to her. Perhaps it makes sense to them. Something to ask about when they get there. The idea of Betas coming to them is also strange, but would make things easier. She knows full well that not every person an Alpha bites will become a werewolf. “What did you mean about Omegas?” Alpha and Beta seem exactly the same, if structured different, but he had mentioned Omegas had changed.

He doesn’t answer right away, but she can tell he’s thinking. She’s content to wait. “In the western half here you’ll find Omega refers to a werewolf without a pack who has gone feral.” An idea that baffles her. “They’re usually killed by hunters or packs. Back east it just means a werewolf without a pack but is looking for one. They prefer to call a feral a feral.”

Again he falls quiet. She finds herself reaching across the car to rest a hand on his knee. “In Europe there is no such thing as feral or an unattached werewolf. Any new werewolf discovered is snatched up by the nearest pack. Any werewolf that shows the signs of going feral are dealt with then and there. We have long since learned to not draw attention to ourselves if we can help it.” Malia finds herself approving. She’s sure not all hunters are like Argent, and that it was better for an Alpha to deal with such things anyways. She knows she won’t hesitate.

“Omega...is not a term one bandies about lightly back home. It has a wealth of meaning not easily explained unless one experiences it.” For a moment he turns his head to look at her, even behind his sunglasses she can tell his gaze is serious. “It is a Beta who has chosen to give themselves up to their Alpha, wholly and completely. I met one once when I traveled with my mother to visit one of her groups. The older children joked that the woman wouldn’t take a shit unless the Alpha told her to.”

Unsure of what to say Malia doesn’t say anything. Keeping her hand on him she stares out the window again, watching the world shimmer with heat. She knows Deucalion doesn’t mind that she doesn’t understand things. She finds that now she’s an Alpha it feels like she _has_ to understand those things. In her mind that’s what an Alpha should know. Know how things work and how to deal with them. Know what might cause someone to give themselves like that and not find them weak and foolish.

Perhaps if she were purely wolf she would understand. Werecoyotes as far as she could tell were solitary. No Alphas, Betas, Omegas, no packs, no families. She wishes she’d known who her mother was, maybe then she might have some answers.

She guesses she’s got the chance to learn now. No one in London will expect her to know anything. From how Deucalion’s described it they’ll welcome her with open arms despite her being wild; because that’s what the did. The need to stick together outweighing anything like uncertainty. _That_ she understands.

Malia also knows she doesn’t want Deucalion or someone else swooping in every time she makes a mistake and making apologies for her, or even worse fixing it themselves. Taking her hand back she turns in her seat to face him fully. “Tell me as much as you can.” It should make the trip faster.

-

Deucalion finds himself almost hoarse by the time they reach Las Vegas. Not that he regrets it. If Malia wants to learn he’s more than willing to teach her. It speaks well as to what sort of Alpha she’ll be and he wants to nurture that. He already knows she’ll make hard choices, but he wants her to be certain in those choices when the time comes.

Fortunately for his voice Malia is now engrossed in staring out the window. Wide eyes taking in the Strip and the hoards of people walking up and down it. It will be good practice for London, being here. Learning what to pay attention to and what to ignore.

While he might have the money to afford one of the hotels on the Strip he takes them off it instead. A pleasant unassuming place, perfect to spend a night before they go on to cooler climes. He’d grown used to the warmth of California, but it had nothing on Nevada. Malia appears uncaring about the heat as she follows him from the parking lot to the hotel lobby. He’ll much appreciate it when they get to London, or at least much more agreeable temperatures.

Malia flops onto the bed as they enter their room. Stretching and groaning slightly.

“Happy to be out of the car?” He sets their shared bag at the foot of the bed and joins her.

She rolls onto him, her breath warm against his neck. “Yes,” she groans. “I think my ass has gone numb.”

A chuckle leaves him. “Consider it practice for tomorrow. Be in the plane about the same amount of time.” He wraps his arms around her and helpfully massages her ass.

Which gets a laugh from her, and some all to enticing squirming. “I can walk around in a plane if I need to.” Both her voice and scent have a hint of nerves to them, understandable in someone who’s never flown before.

“True.” He agrees. “And first class will be much roomier than the rest of the plane.” That he had splurged on. If only because it would be easier on the both of them. “Shall we have ourselves a break then before heading out?”

Malia pushes herself off him, enough to look him in the eye. “Want to get it out of the way.” She replies. “Do you know how many fliers there were in the lobby for wedding chapels? Why is that even a thing here?” A smile pulls at his mouth.

“Humans are strange creatures.” He shrugs. “This time that works in our favor.” Beyond that he doesn't care.

With a snort she climbs off him. “Well I know I don’t want one where we’re married by Elvis or some other weird person.” He’ll agree with her on that, simple and straightforward are all they need.

“Then let’s start our hunt shall we?”

Three hours later they’ve eaten dinner, picked out rings, and gotten married.

Back in their hotel room Malia sits at the little table, seemingly entranced by the certificate. As he finishes up their flight check in he closes his laptop and takes the seat across from her. “I’m surprised you haven’t started asking questions.”

“I got Deucalion wasn’t your real name,” she shrugs. “Do I have to start calling you Talbot?”

Reaching across the table he rests a hand on hers. “Not if you don’t want to. In London that’s what most people will call me, but I don’t prefer one over the other.” In a way her only calling him Deucalion will be a reminder of what has happened to him here. Let it not fade away into the past. He’ll need that reminder from time to time he’s sure.

A frown crosses her face. “Should I have put my real name on it to then?” She sounds so earnest that for a moment he doesn’t understand the question.

So she had known about her possible Hale connection then. A nice sort of satisfaction in that. “Tate was on your birth certificate, a different name on the license would have made more of a fuss. What is your real name then?” She had never given him a surname all those months ago when she’d first introduced herself after all.

“Malia Hale,” she makes an exasperated noise. “Lydia’s the one who found it out thanks to Talia’s claws. Peter’s my dad, but Talia took his memories before putting me up for adoption. We never managed to figure out why.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. Part of him surprised someone as conniving as Peter managed to have a partner for nine months, he can’t quite believe someone could stand the other man for that long. In the long run it hardly matters, and speaks to the sort of mind Malia has. Which is only good in _his_ mind. “Does the why matter to you?”

A shrug, confusion filling her scent. “Maybe? I’d like to know why my mother was okay with giving me up, I’d like to know who she was. Other than that…” another shrug. “I don’t really care? Is that weird?”

Keeping his hand on hers he stands, then tugs her upright as well. Embracing her. “Not weird, it’s you. Your father has no memory of you and your mother seems to have given you up without a fight. Perfectly reasonable to have no true interest in them. And if you want those answers it shouldn’t be too hard to get them once we’re in London.” He knows full well that Kip has sources all around the world. “But only if you want it.” He won’t push her either way. There is the faint sense of petty vengeance, but other than that her heritage is something that doesn’t matter to him.

“I’ll think about it,” she says with a sigh. Her arms wrap around him and squeeze tight. “I’d thought you’d be freaking out more.”

He snorts. “Tate, Hale, neither of that matters anymore.” He tilts her head up so he can look her in the eye. “You are my mate. That makes you a Holmwood, even before this marriage of ours. That’s all that matters to me.”

He’s unsurprised when she rises up and kisses him.

 

 

**Here ends part 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of part one folks. It took me far longer than I thought it would to get here, but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I have started part 2, but it'll be awhile before I start posting it what with how much of a trampoline my writing is at the moment (I'm bouncing between so much stuff it's not even funny).


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